


Gambler's Fallacy

by marimoes



Category: One Piece
Genre: Gambling, I would say it's pwp but also it's 5k so no it isn't, M/M, Oral Sex, Paulie gets a gamblers high, Post-W7, Strip Poker, early in relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 08:01:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22846804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marimoes/pseuds/marimoes
Summary: Paulie is well aware that Iceburg hasn’t lost a hand yet. The last hour being a torture of Iceburg dealing, Paulie losing, and waiting to see which piece that he’ll lose. This was supposed to help break him of his gambling habit, but all it makes him want to do is go somewhere that he can use chips again.This is ridiculous! He never loses this poorly with poker. If anything, Paulie would consider it his game. But apparently not tonight.“You’re rigging it. Let me deal this time,” Paulie demands around a cigar and holds out his hand.
Relationships: Iceburg/Paulie (One Piece)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 37





	Gambler's Fallacy

**Author's Note:**

> Please know all Paulieice I write is the ultimate self indulgence, and I have 0 shame.

“Off. Paulie.” 

The light hanging over the two men sways gently, knocking shadows around the table. How Paulie wishes at the moment that it were stacks of chips that they were casting upon, rather than the shirt he’s tugging of his body. When it leaves his shoulders a chill washes over him and a laugh comes from across the felt. 

“You’re having a good night, for now. It should end soon,” Paulie grumbles sitting back in his chair with nothing on now except his boxers and socks. His arms are crossed over his chest to both hold in heat, and give himself some sort of cover, now that his last major piece is gone. “You gotta have this thing rigged.” 

Iceburg peers over the top of his glasses as he collects the cards on the table. Eyes shining in the gleam of the lamp that’s starting to settle again, and he smiles. He shuffles the deck deftly, making them shutter against each other in a bridge before situating them once more. It’s fluid, capturing Paulie’s attention every time, and he wishes that he too could be bent in Iceburg’s hands. 

He likely will be soon if he doesn’t win. 

“Well, I have to say that I’ve been...rather fortunate tonight,” Iceburg purrs while shuffling the cards a final time. His eyes are tracing over the dip in Paulie’s collar bone slowly, and Paulie shifts under the weight of his gaze. “A shame that you haven’t gotten a single one of my pieces. I even left my jacket off to make it easier for you.” 

Paulie is well aware that Iceburg hasn’t lost a hand yet. The last hour being a torture of Iceburg dealing, Paulie losing, and waiting to see which piece that he’ll lose. This was supposed to help break him of his gambling habit, but all it makes him want to do is go somewhere that he can use chips again. 

This is ridiculous! He never loses this poorly with poker. If anything, Paulie would consider it his game. But apparently not tonight. 

“You’re rigging it. Let me deal this time,” Paulie demands around a cigar and holds out his hand. 

Iceburg complies, placing the neatly shuffled deck into Paulie’s hand only to watch him drop them to the table. They scatter, not too far away, but just enough that it creates contained chaos. 

“This is a completely barbaric way of shuffling. Let me teach you, please?” Iceburg groans, curling his fingers against his chin. His knuckles scratch against his stubble anxiously while he watches Paulie attempt to put the deck back together. It’s frustratingly attractive, but what isn’t about Paulie. 

He deals to them both before laying down the flop — a ten of clubs, a jack of clubs, and king of spades — and when he pulls his cards up to his face, Iceburg knows in an instant that Paulie has a good hand. He’s not a great bluff, which is how he truly knew that he could trust him with the mission of fake documents. 

The man can’t hide much to the world, but what he does manage to keep stays curled against Iceburg’s chest in the morning. 

“Something good?” Iceburg asks placing his cards face down on the table and Paulie’s smile disappears quickly. 

He does the same, fingers drumming on the edge of the table, and readjusts in his seat. Everything about Paulie is trying to ignore that he’s nearly naked beneath the edge of the table. Iceburg thinks to the cards in his hand, two aces, and leans back in his chair. 

“Check or raise,” Paulie responds, game face already on again, and Iceburg suppresses a smile. _He’s so cute when tries to be serious_ , Iceburg thinks, noting the faint red along his nose.

“Check.” 

Paulie flips the next card and fails to catch his eyebrow from lifting at the sight of a queen of hearts. Iceburg pretends not to notice, and instead sighs, hoping his fake sound of defeat is caught. When Paulie presses his hands against his mouth, rubbing giddily against his chin, Iceburg knows it worked. 

He’ll fold — now certain that what Paulie has can beat his hand. 

“Raise,” Paulie says slyly and he anxiously lets his foot tap against the ground twice before stopping it. His excitement is breaking through his exterior, resulting in a quiet hum of his voice, going low to high over and over. 

“Raising means that if you lose, you’ll almost be completely naked,” Iceburg says, a statement rather than a question. Paulie nods and a spring of hair comes loose to hang in his face without his goggles to hold it back. He presses it back into place, threading the rest of the way through, and nods again eagerly. “Well, if you’re sure...I fold.” 

Paulie’s eyes go wide as Iceburg pushes his cards into the middle. The table shakes as Paulie stands up, hands slamming on the edge and leaning forward Iceburg can see the hunger in his gaze. It’s not sexual in the slightest.

No, this is the shine of a gambler’s high. 

“GIVE ME YOUR SHIRT, BURG!” Paulie yells. It’s only after his voice echoes in the room does he realize his volume, and leans back with a red face. His hands collect the cards with a gentle shake in them. “Sorry, I’m just — excited.” 

Iceburg snorts and starts to unbutton his shirt slowly, trying to keep an eye up over the rim of his glasses. He catches Paulie’s tongue darting out over his lips at the first sight of his tattoos. He’s clearly happy with his choice of clothing, and before Iceburg can drop it into the pile, he’s dealt the next hand. 

“Let’s go, let’s go,” Paulie says, tapping the cards edge against the table in a quick unstable pattern. “Can’t let the table cool.” 

“Well,” Iceburg drawls and pulls his glass to his lips, taking a long, slow sip. Paulie grumbles impatiently, and only settles when Iceburg flips the edge of his cards up to look. “Check.” 

“Raise,” Paulie almost barks out as his eyes register the card he throws onto the table and a laugh slips from his lips. “Sorry! Sorry, I’m just—”

“Excited,” Iceburg supplies with a smile and looks at the four cards now on the table. His cards don’t even give him a pair much less anything better with what is showing, and Paulie is clearly buzzing. Pulling his glasses off slowly, Iceburg tosses them to the center to meet the raise.

The glass no longer sitting between their eyes, Paulie’s fingers tap faster against the table’s edge, and his knee slams against the bottom. He curses, rubbing against the wound, and Iceburg has a feeling that he probably wishes he could rub something else instead. A feeling that is validated when Paulie leans up to flip the final card and a clear outline is nudging his boxers upwards. 

It’s a two of hearts and Paulie holds his mouth into a tight line before breathing out a sigh, “Raise.” 

“You can’t raise twice, Paulie. You don’t have more than two pieces,” Iceburg reasons and Paulie’s eyes narrow. Before he can open his mouth to argue, Iceburg waves a hand. “Fine, fine. I fold.” 

“Hot damn!” Paulie cheers and shows his cards to reveal a straight. He holds up a hand, making a beckoning motion while furrowing his brows. “Hm, give me the pants. You deserve to know how cold it is in this room. Seriously, what’s with your heating?” 

All that will remain on Iceburg after this is his tie, socks, garters, and underwear. If he plays this right, he can end this all in two games. If Paulie can contain himself, anyways. 

Who knows what the cards will give? All Iceburg knows is that he wants to make Paulie squirm a little longer. 

He pushes back from the table slowly, rising up to stand with enough pace that he can see Paulie edge forward in his chair. Elbows against felt, Iceburg wonders what kind of burn he could leave on him given where this is going. Given the look that is currently swimming in Paulie’s eyes while Iceburg’s hand runs across his waist.

The first button comes undone easily. Just a simple flick of his hand makes the plastic slip out with a dulled click, and Iceburg smiles. 

The next is slower, with his fingers curling around the button before pulling it out. He doesn’t want to waste too much time, as he too is starting to get hard beneath the cover of his clothes, but it’s too fun to play with Paulie like this. Especially when a low whine finds its way out of his mouth pressing through his teeth.

Nothing about Paulie is slow except the way that he settles in.

Everything else is fast.

Fast talking, fast hands, fast heart beneath the touch of Iceburg’s fingertips in the mornings that they find themselves wound together. Warm, flush with more than just space missing between their bodies, and sunrise kissing skin neither have yet reached. 

But they aren’t there yet. They’re still here playing the slow game that Paulie begged for himself. One that he’s likely half regretting — a half that falls to a quarter when Iceburg’s pants fall all at once and with them comes the air from Paulie’s lungs. 

Sitting back against the chair it creaks softly rubbing against the floor. Nothing else other than his underwear will make him stand again, and both men know it, this silent agreement that it will be the last item either of them will take. 

“Well, I have four pieces. You have two. Correct?” Iceburg asks, fingers threading over his tie. He looks through his peripherals to watch Paulie fall into the rhythm of his hands, letting his own rest against the felt, completely lost in the action. 

Smacking his lips and shaking his head, Paulie tries to focus and says, “I’m takin’ that tie next, Burg. You’re being awful mean with it.” 

Iceburg tilts his head, letting his hands still in their motions and leans forward to rest on them instead. He blinks slowly, free hand dragging his finger across the felt, and smiles when it captures Paulie’s attention again. _He’s so easy._

“Come on,” Iceburg says, voice low like someone might hear him. A ridiculous notion as they’re the only ones in the entire building, but still Paulie leans closer. Left leg lifting up, Iceburg tucks his ankle across his knee with ease. The black garters pulling against his socks hold tight against his calves, molded against the toned lines of muscle that rest there. “You really want the tie next?” 

Again, Paulie shakes his head, but this time it’s a ‘no’ to Iceburg’s question. An uncertain ‘no’, it seems, but a decline all the same. 

Pulling the cards back together, Paulie’s hands work to mimic Iceburg’s from earlier and while he can’t get them to bridge it’s a lot better than his previous method. Faster. He wants to win so bad he can nearly taste it, and he can to a point. That sweet taste of Iceburg on his tongue, warm as he licks up —

“Paulie.” 

Paulie refocuses and finds his hands held still over the deck. How long he’s been there, he isn’t sure, but the saliva in his mouth is heavy and it’s audible when he swallows. Something that Iceburg apparently chooses to ignore, in favor of running his finger across the strap of his garter. 

Devilish thing it is, taunting Paulie when Iceburg manages to lift something up while he’s on the docks, letting his pants ride up to show them underneath. Just a peek, of course, but it’s enough to have him chugging water like he was a fishman left to dry. 

“Well, are you going to deal or are we done?” Iceburg asks, and the smallest quirk of a smile tugs on his lips. 

“I’m dealin’, I’m dealin’.” The cards fly out across the table like the words that leave Paulie’s mouth, and Iceburg lets out a chuckle as he pulls his up to his face. “Awe, come on. You can’t have something _that_ good. I’m gonna take you to the gambling hall, you reek with luck.” 

Paulie pulls his own cards up to his face, and lets out a similar chuckle. He already has two of a kind, kings even, this could be a great round. 

“I guess we’ll have to see about that,” Iceburg says and tugs off his tie, letting the knot slip out of place before it crumbles into his hand, “Raise.” 

Tugging his socks off, Paulie tosses a single one onto the edge of the table. When Iceburg gives a look of silent question, Paulie answers it with a short whine, eyes glancing to the only other pieces he has, and Iceburg nods. 

Turning over the flop, all the air comes from Paulie’s lungs as he sees them: the other two kings, lined up next to an ace. So long as Iceburg doesn’t have any aces himself, he has to win. There is no other option, other than a straight, but the odds — he’s sure they’ve turned for the better.

“Well,” Paulie says, voice a low mimic of Iceburg’s and the eyes that find his aren’t amused, “looks like this might be a ‘winner takes all’ round.” 

Iceburg’s eyebrows lift up in surprise and he places his cards back against the felt, “Oh? Raise.” 

Tugging the garters off slowly, they slide off of Iceburg with ease and a faint red line kisses his skin. It feels familiar, looks familiar, and the thoughts make Paulie’s abdomen ache again. Why is this game taking so damn long? Why can’t they stop pretending to care about this game? 

Because, Paulie realizes all too quickly as Iceburg tosses the straps into the middle, it’s just that: a game. Tossing his other sock onto the edge, Paulie nods as his response and flips over the next card, biting his lip as it reveals. He already has what he needs, but if he just push Iceburg a little further before he folds, he could win this. 

The next card is a queen of hearts, matching in suit to the ace and king that lie beside it, and a soft thrum of worry takes off in Paulie’s chest. He might lose this, but that would still require Iceburg to have a jack and ten of the same suit resting in his hands.

Everything is fine. 

“I’m not takin my boxers off until I lose, understand?” Paulie asks and Iceburg presses his head against his fist on the edge of the table, nodding softly, “Alright, you raising them socks or not?” 

With a sigh, Iceburg pulls back from the table and tugs the two pieces off before laying them against the edge to mirror Paulie’s on the other side. They both now sit in their boxers, chill resting on their shoulder with an unspoken anticipation and when Paulie reaches forward to complete the river his hand shakes. 

“It’s not like I’m going to come after you if you lose,” Iceburg says and Paulie hovers in place. That’s right, this isn’t like other games at all, not in the slightest. So why is his heart beating as hard as it does when he pushes the last of his chips in? “I’m not like those collectors. Even if I was, you can pay me back with something _much better_ than money.” 

Paulie’s eyes flit up to find Iceburg’s and the glint in them is something he’s never seen. He’s never this coy, or this forward, with him. Reaching out, Iceburg rests his hand over Paulie’s and moves it to flip the final card. With skin once again against skin, the electricity that’s been dancing around the table since Paulie discarded his pants is magnified. 

He can’t do anything this round but see if Iceburg bets his final piece. If he does, they have to wait to see the reveal. If he loses — 

“Ah,” Iceburg hums and Paulie’s eyes flit down to the cards. A jack of hearts. _Shit._ “Raise.” 

“You’re fucking me, Burg,” Paulie barks out, hands now pressed hard into the felt. The bite of the fabric nearly doesn’t register to him, but when Iceburg places his hands over to pin them there, it’s suddenly all Paulie can concentrate on. A prickling that seems to work its way into his veins.

“Well...” Iceburg sighs and aligns his gaze with Paulie’s, “I thought that was the point.” 

“It. Well. It is! I just don’t believe you could _possibly_ have a straight. You can’t!” Paulie argues, quiver of excitement mixed with frustration twisting in his words. When Iceburg pulls his hands back, the lack of heat almost makes Paulie shiver, but he stays planted in place.

Slowly, Iceburg flips his two cards over to reveal a nine and ten of hearts. Paulie doesn’t move at the sight, nor does he speak as Iceburg leans back to rest in his chair once more. His legs cross again, ankle to knee, and when he starts bobbing his foot Paulie’s mind catches up.

He lost. 

“So,” Iceburg says, drawl low and knowing while Paulie pulls back from the edge. His boxers suddenly feel like they weigh five times as much as normal, and his chest tightens with each drop of Iceburg’s foot. “do you want to take them off — or should I?” 

Paulie’s hands guide to his waist without thought. A wash of uncertainty plays along his cheeks and neck while he considers the thought. He lost, fair and square, so he should be the one to forfeit them. If it were chips and if it were the halls downtown, he would likely bolt right about now and a similar feeling crosses his mind. 

But rather than run down the street with two men yelling at his heels, Paulie wants to bolt across the table. 

“I’ll do it. I bet ‘em,” Paulie says, thumbs curling under the edge of the elastic band and he swears he hears Iceburg purr. 

They drag slowly down his hips, showing inch by inch of tanned skin in varying shades and Paulie wishes he had time to be embarrassed. Not like the thought can even begin to form as his eyes stay glued to Iceburg. The man who suggested they play this terrible version in the first place, still sitting with a pleased grin on his face and a distinct outline in his own boxers. 

When the fabric leaves his hips, Paulie springs up over the edge with ease, bouncing gently in the air. He’s fully erect, flushed with impatience, and his body is about the same. When he reaches his thighs, Paulie pauses and Iceburg blinks in question. 

“You gonna just let me stand here? Thought you’d want to claim your prize.” Paulie laughs, but it’s weak and empty. Whatever front he’s desperate to build between them has no base and Iceburg can see right through it. 

“I’m enjoying things just fine,” Iceburg says with a smile, “Well, I could get a better view of my winnings if you came closer.” 

“Your winnings?” Paulie mutters and drops the boxers to the ground before quickly stepping out of them. A quick bend down, coupled with a flick of the wrist lands the clothing onto the center of the table and Paulie sighs. “C’mon, Burg. Don’t tease me. It’s bad enough that you gave me hope of winning.” 

Running a hand along the edge of the table, Paulie walks. His steps are deliberate, yet shaky, and when Iceburg holds his hand out he nearly falters. This is all they wanted, wasn’t it? The game is over now, they can just enjoy each other. 

“You going to match me?” Paulie asks and Iceburg’s hand tightens around his.

Iceburg silently tugs him forward to close the final gap of space. Within the same motion, Iceburg’s free hand wraps around Paulie’s thigh. Paulie’s mouth opens to object to the manhandling, but out of it comes a soft gasp instead.

Iceburg’s mouth is wrapped around him, with a knowing smile painted into the edges as he presses further. Paulie’s hand tightens and loosens wildly while his mind tries to catch up, and it’s only when Iceburg releases it that he focuses. A mere blip of concentration to steady his hands on Iceburg’s shoulders before he loses it again to the sensation of a warm tongue.

Paulie sucks in a short breath when the cold of the table’s edge presses against his ass, and he wonders when Iceburg started moving them forward. He’s nearly off his chair now, leaned onto the edge with hands dug into Paulie’s calves. Any other thought is lost between his thighs, along with the deep purple hair Paulie desperately wants to claw into. 

If he could just move his hands.

Iceburg pulls back, lips smacking softly at release and the lazy smile that was hinted at earlier now takes up his face, “I’ll match you later. For now,” A kiss is placed against Paulie’s thigh and he fights back a shudder. “well, I’d like to enjoy my prize.”

With straining shoulders, Paulie gives in and falls back on his forearms. The bite of the felt returns, and with it comes the matching feeling of Iceburg’s teeth on his thigh. He settles in only slightly before he’s taken whole once more, and his feet kick up from surprise.

They wrap behind Iceburg’s back with ease and Paulie feels himself sink into familiarity. Their usual holds, positions, and sensations are mixing with the new situation seamlessly. Iceburg curls his hand around him with nails pricking his skin, just like always, and Paulie digs his heels in, just like always.

Again, Iceburg’s mouth leaves him, but this time he leans up to stand. Paulie’s eyes are glazed, blind by the hanging light above him paired with the blur of excitement. He doesn’t quite focus before Iceburg begins to kiss his chest, doesn’t have the words ready when he’s pulled forward off the table.

His head simply swims while he regains his footing and a supportive hand rests on his lower back.

“Well, we have a tendency to break things and this table isn’t cheap,” Iceburg explains with a soft voice before kissing side of Paulie’s forehead. He stays there until he feels Paulie give a gentle squeeze of recognition and chuckles before giving another kiss. “So — “

Iceburg’s thought remains incomplete as Paulie turns him quickly. His hands are forceful yet shaking while they swap their places, and Paulie pants, “Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back.”

Iceburg’s eyes widen in surprise, but close just as quickly when Paulie’s hand wraps around him. His hands are rough while they jerk the boxers off of Iceburg, pulling them just far enough so that they’ll fall to the floor. 

“Paulie…” Iceburg sighs and sucks in a breath as his skin hits the table’s edge. It’s colder than he thought it would be, and he barely gets himself steadied on the felt before Paulie dips down. 

Lips eager, they wrap around Iceburg without hesitation. Paulie lets his tongue flick out across the underside and a moan rolls off of it as he licks upwards. It’s just like he thought earlier, not a detail out of place.

His hands slide against Iceburg’s thighs while he steadies himself to balance on his toes. This position will likely make his legs ache in the morning, but it’s worth it.

It’s like the game never happened in his mind. How could it, when he’s clearly won the pot that lies on the table? Hooking Iceburg’s knees onto his shoulders, Paulie lifts up all at once and hears the huff from Iceburg when his shoulders hit the table.

“Easy, Paulie,” Iceburg groans, hand rubbing the back of his head, “We’ve got all night.”

Paulie kisses a quick line up Iceburg’s thigh before placing a final one on his tip, and smiles. He’s well aware of the time they have, seeing that it’s been on his mind all day. Hours on hours of finishing the mast on a new fishing boat, all the while wishing he was tugging something else.

He’s often flustered by Iceburg’s advances, burning red on his cheeks when he watches the man he’s long admired sink beneath his knees. In the rare cases that he actually gets the nerve to reciprocate with something that isn’t a shaking hand that can’t quite do what he’d like, Paulie takes it. 

Now, it seems, is one of those times. 

His face isn’t burning red with embarrassment like it usually is. In fact, it seems like Iceburg’s might be, but he can’t quite tell from this angle. All he can see is a bobbing invitation in front of his face, and he takes it. 

Nails against felt, Iceburg fails to gain any ground as Paulie takes him whole. Tight cheeks suck against him while Paulie pulls upwards, and with his mouth he pulls more than just a wet sound away from Iceburg. His tongue is tangled into words and noises. 

Ones neither man often hears and it seems to spur Paulie on. 

Iceburg again tries to lift up, arms pushing himself the best they can while they shake, but when Paulie licks his tip it’s back to the table he goes. It’s seemingly impossible for him to do anything except enjoy what’s being done to him. 

It’s frustrating. 

He wants to watch as Paulie takes the command he knows that he can, he wants to see his lover wrap his lips around him. To see the blush on his cheeks match the red of his wicked tongue while it laps at him. 

The thought alone nearly sends Iceburg over the edge, leaving him to stay put. 

A low, hungry moan flows hot from Paulie’s mouth, and his fingers dance upwards from Iceburg’s thighs onto his hips. He’s not much taller than Paulie is himself, but he’s built long. Long legs, long arms, long — everything. 

Something he can’t begin to forget as Iceburg’s tip easily rubs against the back of his throat and Paulie has to focus to pull in air. The last thing he needs is to pass out on his partner’s dick after losing a card game. 

“P-paulie..” Iceburg huffs, hands causing a low grinding noise against the table and Paulie drags upwards slowly. He lets himself look over the expanse of Iceburg’s chest to find him red and panting. “Please, don’t, slow.” 

The words are crackling from his lips. A plea he’s heard from his own lips many times while Iceburg pushes him further towards an edge. He almost wants to ignore the signal, to drag this out as long as he can. 

But as Iceburg’s head falls to the side, hair mussed and clinging to his forehead, Paulie knows he can’t. 

Sighing, Paulie again paints a heavy stripe across Iceburg’s tip and feels him twitch up against his upper lip. He’s close, so close, with the shine of much more than Paulie’s mouth resting against him. If there was time, Paulie would likely remark about it. 

Probably try to tease, saying that he’s just as bad as Paulie is, desperate for release. 

There is no time, not when Paulie plunges forward without warning and Iceburg comes without one either. His teeth are pulled tight against his lower lip to stifle his groan, but when Paulie sucks against him to take it all he falters. 

His moan is ragged, tired with something Paulie’s never heard before, and he wishes to god he could record it. To hear the crackle in Iceburg’s tone as he’s able to release tension that he’s no doubt been carrying for days if not weeks. 

Just as quickly as his bravery came, it disappears with the sweat that finds its way down his face and into the crook of his collar. He has Iceburg, stark naked against a poker table, lips shiny with the lingerings of his orgasm. Oh. 

Dropping his knees from his shoulders, they slam against the table’s edge with a stifled thud and Iceburg groans again, but this time Paulie would wager it isn’t in pleasure. 

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help myself from pushing. You had the tie, and the glasses, and the fuckin’ _sock garters_!” Paulie rambles, hands pushing anxiously through his hair. 

He wraps a forceful hand around Iceburg’s forearm and when he pulls him back up to sit, Iceburg has to hold out a hand to keep from smacking straight into the light, “Paulie, please.” 

The words hold a different meaning than they did just moments ago and a hard rock of unease starts to form in the bottom of his stomach. Of course Iceburg came, but did he enjoy it? What’s that look in his eye right now?

“Well, stop looking like a yagara caught in streetlights,” Iceburg sighs, laugh blowing across his lips. 

Paulie grumbles, fingers scratching against his scalp in an uneven rhythm, and it isn’t until Iceburg reaches up to pull his wrists down does he stop. His smile is kind, barely present on his lips, but it fully reaches his eyes. 

“Still a lot, isn’t it?” Iceburg whispers before placing a single kiss on each of Paulie’s hands. “I guess being with me is a bit of a gamble. Well, not that I think anything will happen.” 

Paulie lets the words toss around in his head. He’s not wrong; it is a big gamble being with Iceburg. If ever things were to go south, he’d be out of much more than a job. He’d have to move, possibly to another blue entirely just to avoid the industry.

“Paulie?” 

Paulie’s hands turn to take Iceburg’s within his, holding tight around the edges until his fingertips start to color white. Iceburg doesn’t say anything. He just watches him quietly, and when Paulie raises his hands to kiss them in return, he smiles.

“I’m all in, Iceburg,” Paulie whispers, eyes flitting up to meet his gaze. 

An uncertain smile tweaks at his lips with the words he’s said so many times before. Each time a gamble for what lies on the other side of a card flip. Each time making his chest stir while he waits for the outcome. But now, for the first time, Paulie has no interest in flipping the cards. 

He’s already won. 

“I’m all in.” 

**Author's Note:**

> God, I love when Paulie gets brave. He's so cute. 
> 
> Twitter: @__moes__  
> Tumblr: @noswordstyle
> 
> Talk W7 with me!


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